


Towards the Wild Pass, a Shelter From the Wind

by Dryad



Category: Rome (TV 2005)
Genre: AU, M/M, More Tags Will Spoil It, NC17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 18:11:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11236443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: "What kind of monster do you think I am?"





	Towards the Wild Pass, a Shelter From the Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



The figures trudged through the swirling snow, heads bowed against the howling wind. 

They were lost.

The day had started out fine, overcast yet bright, bright enough for them to take the risk of going up the valley and over the ridge. The valley was wide at the bottom, narrowing so rapidly they barely realized how high they were until they were through the thick pine forest, with only the rocky pass above. 

The trail was rocky and windswept, and the only greenery visible was grass gripping the thin top soil as hard as it could, and blue tinged lichens spreading over the ridges of mountain stone. The sky darkened, clouds scudding across the sky, and though both men had thought maybe they would be lucky and escape the oncoming storm, Nature soon enough told them differently.

"Fucking hell!"

Lucius Vorenus didn't bother replying. He was saving his breath, allowing the anger _(fear)_ at their situation to drive him forward. Pullo, too, the bastard. How he'd let Pullo talk him into this when he knew better - fucking Gaul. Thank Mithras they were already wearing cold weather gear. Wool socks on their feet and wool braccae on their legs. For all that Titus Pullo had mocked them when Vorenus had had them made, he certainly was not complaining now. Vorenus would feel more satisfied if he knew they were still going to be in for a certain amount of stick when they reached camp, rather than found frozen on the pass.

Vorenus paused, turned to face Pullo as the wind shifted again. "We should go back!" 

"No!" Pullo shouted back, holding one corner of his hood away from his face with the two fingers without bandages. "I think I saw something up ahead, a shelter!"

Vorenus turned to look where Pullo was pointing. There did appear to be something at the base of that wall of stone. Well, this was a well traveled path - in summer - so it was conceivable that a shelter was really there. Not bothering to waste a breath, he nodded and tried to walk faster. The snow was beginning to bulk up on his boots, which was unfortunate. If this was just a figment of Pullo's imagination, they were going to have to head back down the mountain, weather be damned.

It took forever to reach, but there actually was a small building against the rock. Did he smell wood smoke, or was that merely his imagination...no, he _did_ smell smoke. 

Vorenus didn't hesitate reaching for the door, a simple affair with a slatted iron latch. Oddly, it opened before he could even put a hand on the latch.

In front of him stood a bearded man wearing a hat, a soft gray focale around his neck, black braccae and a heavy, oddly shaped cloak a shade of dark sea, the kind Vorenus had seen worn in Germania. The man eyed them both warily from head to foot, then stepped aside to let them in.

With one hand on his pugio, Vorenus entered first, trusting Pullo to dispatch the man if necessary, instantly grateful for the burning warmth of the room. He quickly took in the crude wooden table and chairs, the blanket covered bed in the corner, the low fire along the wall, the other man in the far corner, peering at them and grinning. 

"Looks like we've got guests, Boyd!" said the man. He had fine features and a white smile which Vorenus did not care for one little bit.

The tone was so filled with joy, Vorenus immediately distrusted it. Besides, there was a smell in the room...something fusty and familiar...hmm. In addition, the man's hands and feet were bound tightly together. Vorenus quickly turned to see where Pullo was, only to find him being pulled into.

"Vale," said Boyd, closing the door. He glanced at the man in the corner, then back at Vorenus and Pullo. "You boys seem far from home."

Pullo nodded warily. "Y'know what it's like in this kind of weather."

"No, I meant..." Boyd gestured at the two of them. "I've seen costumes like that in pictures..."

Of course Pullo had to widen his stance and rock up onto his toes a bit. Vorenus noted Pullo was keeping his hands beneath his cape, which was only wise. "A bit of theatre," added Vorenus, because he was completely unfamiliar with Boyd's costume. Even his name was strange. Maybe their answer relieved Boyd a bit, for he _turned_ away, as no true soldier would when faced with Centurions.

"Long way away from an audience," commented Boyd. "I've got bourbon and coffee, or bourbon _and_ coffee, if you prefer."

"Maybe they want hot soup," said the man in the corner. "There's plenty over there in the pot, good meat stew."

"Any bread to go with it?" asked Pullo, drifting over to the fire, carefully keeping out of kicking distance. He peered into the pot, sniffed, raised an eyebrow. "Smells fantastic."

"You should tr-"

"It's gone bad," Boyd said loudly. "I wouldn't trust it if I were you. This is no place to get sick."

Vorenus snorted. "This is no place to get lost."

Boyd eyed him, produced a large, brown glass bottle out of his pocket. He uncorked it, poured brown liquid into one of two drinking glasses on the table, hovered the bottle over the other. "Yet here we are. Bourbon?"

He could smell alcohol and grain sweetness from where he stood, but Vorenus shook his head. Let Pullo have it if he wanted. To his great surprise, Pullo also shook his head, though the longing for a taste was clear in his gaze. 

"To each their own," said Boyd. He took a sip, blew out a noisy breath. 

For his part, as he warmed, Vorenus was also becoming aware of just how fatigued his was. The fighting in the valley had been fierce, and he still wasn't sure how wise he had been in chasing after the tribal shaman. They were odd creatures in these parts; too many bones in their hair, in their ears, in their noses. Too many tattoos. Barbarians, the lot of them, though he would never say that outside of Pullo's presence, and maye not even in his presence either, in all honesty. Pullo tended to be uh, loquacious when the drink was in him. Ad he drank a lot.

"I think the two gentleman from Rome would like a meal," said the man in the corner. He gestured towards the iron pot hanging over the fire. "Go ahead, try it."

Boyd began strapping on a pair of leather gloves that ran halfway up his arms. "Don't talk to Ives. He's a murderer and a cannibal, he'll eat you as soon as look at you."

"Cannibal?" Vorenus eyed the man.

"He eats people," Boyd answered shortly.

Ives grinned. "Aye. And so does he."

With one hand on his gladius, Vorenus moved closer to Pullo, staring hard at Boyd, who didn't deny it.

"Not by choice," Boyd finally admitted. "I was dying - "

Ives began to laugh, a dry chuckle that set Vorenus further on edge. 

"The only way to kill a man touched by a _wendigo_ is to become one yourself..." Boyd trailed off, frowning. He shook his head a little, as if to clear it from something only he could see. "So I ate, and survived, and took Ives into the woods, so I could keep everyone else safe."

"And now here we are, with two fine soldiers at our side. Strong. Healthy. Well, mostly healthy."

"You talking about me?" asked Pullo, his voice the kind of pleasant Vorenus had come to realize meant trouble.

"Pullo," Vorenus warned. 

Boyd took a pair of mittens hanging from a nail on the wall and threw them at Ives. "Now that you're here, it's time for us to move on."

Ives sat up, clearly outraged. "You can't be serious! Listen to the wind, it's wild out there!"

Boyd ignored him, tossing back the drink he had poured earlier in one go. "Rest up. Lock the door behind us. We won't be back."

"In this weather? Are you insane, man?" Ives said in disbelief. "I don't want to die up here, I'll only have you to eat."

"Get it on before I drag you outside," Boyd rewrapped his focale more tightly around his throat, adjusted his hat. Then he looked at Vorenus for the only the second time since he had opened the front door. "Go ahead and eat the stew, it's made from animals, not people."

Ives cackled. 

"Are you going north or south?" asked Vorenus, because he intended on going in the opposite direction.

"North. Fewer people that way. Yesterday when the weather was clear I saw a gap in the rock. It's only a mile or so from here, we should make good time."

"Speak for yourself," said Ives, that strange grin back on his face. He got to his feet and hobbled towards the door, looking at Pullo. "Rest and eat. I like a challenge when it comes to my dinner."

Casually cuffing Ives on the back of his head, Boyd opened the door and shoved him out into the snow. "Lock the door!" he shouted, and then they were gone.

Vorenus immediately set the the bar into its stanchions, then leaned against the door. They were well and truly fucked. Locked in a cabin, enemies at the gate, their backs to the wall. One with injuries while not fatal, certainly severe enough their survival could be difficult.

"It's not bad."

Vorenus briefly closed his eyes. Could Pullo not, just for one minute, think before he did a thing? Was that so much to ask?

"Come on, try some. It'll make you feel better."

With a heavy sigh, Vorenus grabbed both chairs from the table and dragged them over to the fire. Pullo already had a mug waiting for him, which must have been incredibly uncomfortable. Vorenus could feel the heat of the stew through the metal. Fuck it, everyone died sooner or later. He lifted the mug to his lips and took a tentative sip, nearly burning his tongue off in the process. Could use some salt, but it was tasty enough. After a moment of recovery, he looked at Pullo. "How's the hands?"

Pullo glanced down at his bandaged palms, shrugged. "I've got two working fingers, which is good enough for now. If those men come back - "

Vorenus nodded in understanding. It would be just him, with Pullo as support. "Until then."

"Until then."

The stew as thick, too thick to be slurped from a mug, though Pullo did his best, balancing the bottom of the mug on the back of his hand. Vorenus ended up feeding him chunks of meat from the tip of his puglio, which Pullo grin like the cheeky sod he was. When they were done, he put the mugs aside and contemplated whether or not they should remove their boots and socks. The cabin only had the one exit, so no one could sneak up on them, and yet...it was worth the risk. They'd be worse off in the morning if everything was still damp, if not actually wet. A few minutes later they were both clad only in under tunics and subligaria, boots by the fire, socks draped over the front of them to dry. 

"All I need now is a woman," muttered Pullo.

"There are more important things than women, Pullo."

"When?"

"Most times," answered Vorenus, already sorry he had responded. Pullo and his women, Pullo and his wine. Occasionally, _very_ occasionally, Vorenus imagined what it would be like, living Pullo's life. It would be simple, obviously. No children to care for, no wi-. Just his own wants and needs. The idea held attraction, but every boy had that in their life, and when a boy became a man, he widened his horizons and ensured a future for himself, his family, and his gens. That was how it was supposed to work.

"Can't even have a wank with these hands the way they are," Pullo said plaintively.

Vorenus blinked. "Yes. What a shame."

"That's what I want right now, a good wa- "

"Can we talk about something else?"

Pullo looked at him. "We're not going anywhere for the night, maybe not tomorrow, either. So what's the harm?"

None. Vorenus waved his arm in apology. "None. Ignore me."

"You're problem is that you don't get any," waxed Pullo. "Why are you holding back? Niobe's dead and gone, she won't care. She didn't care."

"Pullo."

"You know it's true. That child isn't yours - "

It didn't take much to knock Pullo off the chair, and when it was over, Pullo lay on the floor, laughing.

"That's what I'm talking about! Fight or fuck, just get it out of your system!"

Disgusted with himself, Vorenus hauled Pullo up and then sat back down himself, his head in his hands. For a little while they sat in silence. But with Pullo, silence never lasted long.

"Come on then, let's do it. Then we can get some sleep."

"Pardon? Do what?"

"Fuck. Or, if you don't want to do that, you can just get me off, I'm not particular."

For a long moment, Vorenus didn't understand what Pullo meant. And then when he did, he didn't know what to say.

Pullo helpfully spread his legs wide, nodded down at his crotch. "There you go, then. Have at."

In the dark of the cabin, with only the light from the fire playing over everything, Vorenus didn't know what to do. 

"No one has to know, Lucius. It can just be the two of us, here and now."

Before he even realized what he was doing, Vorenus found himself sliding to the floor between Pullo's knees, shoving his tunic up to his waist. He untied the sweat stained subligaria and was promptly faced with a rampant phallus, one already dripping at the tip. He glanced up. 

Pullo lifted one shoulder. "It's what danger can do for a man. Don't tell me you haven't felt it yourself."

"Of course I have, I just don't let it get in the way of doing my job."

"Well this is one job you _can_ get on with."

So he did. Cupping Pullo's stones, he rolled them in is palm, eliciting a groan of appreciation. When he put his mouth to Pullo's glans, licking the tip - oh, what glorious moans. 

Much to his surprise, Vorenus discovered he quite enjoyed giving another man pleasure. The thought occurred to him, that if they managed to get out this alive, maybe they could - no, no, that was thinking too far ahead. Such a relationship would do no one any good, not in Rome. Athens, yes, Rome, no. 

All too soon Pullo was panting, and then Vorenus's mouth was filled once, twice, and again. He choked and sputtered but managed to hold firm until the other man pushed him away. Vorenus fell back against his chair, shocked to find himself as eager as Pullo had been only a few minutes before. Pullo, who was looking at him under heavy lids, his eyes glittering in the soft light. 

"Wouldn't have guessed that," Pullo said. He sat up and stretched, did a little shake of shoulders and torso, his prick alread losing volume as it softened. "Your turn, now."

Vorenus started to say no, then his curiosity got the better of him. How different would a man's mouth be on him from a woman's? Yes, he could always order a slave to do it, he knew plenty of men who did, men who did not understand Roman Virtues or what it truly meant to be a Citizen.

"Like you were taking a woman against a wall," encouraged Pullo, opening his mouth wide after speaking.

Right. Vorenus immediately saw what he meant, and nearly tore the strings off his subligaria in his haste to get himself free. Within seconds he was leaning into Pullo's hot, wet mouth, the scrape of his teeth providing a delicious frisson of further danger. He didn't waste any time, he needed to come, and he needed it sooner than later. There was something delicious in just sinking into Pullo's mouth over and over again, knowing he didn't have to waste time, that he could just take Pullo without honeyed words and good wine.

Besides, in Pullo's case, both would be wasted.

Vorenus couldn't hold back his grunts, the pleasure of his oncoming release rolling out of his cock and up his back, down his thighs. His legs were trembling now, and there, oh there - gods _yes!_

After, he needed some time to recover. Pullo wasn't helpful, sucking on Vorenus as if he were pulling meat off a chicken bone. 

"Right," said Pullo after Vorenus had staggered back to his chair, his voice hoarse. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

No, no it wasn't.

Pullo stood up and headed towards the bed. "That's me done in. You take first watch?"

Vorenus nodded, as if it were Pullo's place to tell him what to do. He was tired, but Pullo needed the rest more. He might not have complained, yet Vorenus knew how much the battle and their subsequent journey up the vally and into the mountains had taken it out of him. "I'll wake you in four hours."

"Aye."

Turning back towards the fire, Vorenus took a sip of water from his canteen to ease his throat, then covered the pot of soup with the lid nearby. It was going to be a long night, and he needed to figure out where they were going in the morning. Go through the pass, probably, before returning and finding the Legion. And maybe, just maybe, finding out just what else Pullo could do before they left.

**Author's Note:**

> Thedevilchicken, I hope this okay! 
> 
> I kind of ran out of time to do what I wanted, but I hope this works for you...


End file.
